


Take Your Demon to Work Day

by Selenay



Series: The Demon and the Librarian [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Clint Barton is a seductive dork, Clint With a Tail, Crack, Demon Clint Barton, Librarian Phil Coulson, M/M, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/pseuds/Selenay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem with taking a demon home is similar to the problem with taking a puppy home: they're not house trained and they need to be supervised at all times.</p>
<p>Unfortunately for Phil, that means he needs to take his demonic visitor to work with him. Clint is not a happy librarian-demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Your Demon to Work Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mikey (mikes_grrl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikes_grrl/gifts).



> This is for Mikey because the last few weeks have been tough. (The part where I was promised Corgi!verse fic if I posted this is entirely coincidental.)
> 
> Thank you to all the people who waved pom poms while I wrote this. It's all your fault. You know who you are.

Phil woke up hoping the previous day had all been some kind of strange dream. Demons with filthy smiles and intriguing tails didn't happen to librarians. He managed to keep believing that right up until he opened his bedroom door and looked out into the open plan living room where a white t-shirt was draped over the back of the sofa and one red foot hung over the arm.

Apparently demons reverted to their more demonic form while they slept. Phil made a mental note in his depressingly short "things I know about demons" file and cautiously edged into the room and around the sofa.

Clint was sprawled on his belly with his face turned into the back of the sofa and Phil was faintly amazed he hadn't suffocated. The blanket that had originally been on the back of the sofa was tangled around Clint's legs and hips but there was enough bare flesh showing to confirm that he was definitely naked.

Naked on Phil's sofa and he'd been there all night. Damn.

Phil's gaze was drawn to the place where the tail emerged from the rumpled blanket to trail on the floor and he caught himself wondering exactly where and how the thing was attached to Clint. After all, there were anatomical considerations that...were entirely irrelevant. Obviously.

Clint was a demon and therefore supernatural in nature so it didn't really matter whether his tail followed any of the usual physical rules.

Although...

A tattoo stood out black and dark against his red-tinted skin. It started as a point at the base of his neck and expanded out across his shoulder blades before narrowing in graceful curves to trace along the contours of his spine. When it disappeared under the blankets it was no wider than a finger. Phil frowned as he considered it, trying to trace the tangle of knots and delicate vines inscribed in deep black ink across Clint's back. He shifted his focus to where the tail emerged from the blankets and unconsciously stepped closer, trying to work out whether the blankets hid any thin whorls of black closer to the base.

"I can feel you watching me."

Phil startled and jumped back as Clint lifted his head and gave him a sleepy smile. Clint's hair was a mess - flattened on one side and standing up wildly on the other - and there were dark red creases on his cheek from the sofa cushion. His horns just peeked out of the tangles and Phil noticed for the first time that his ears tapered to a delicate point. Somehow the overall effected ended up looking humorous rather than intimidating because no creature could be terrifying with that level of bed head.

"It's not polite to stare," Clint continued as he propped himself up on his elbows. "Especially if I can't see you staring."

Suppressing a smile took an effort of will, but Phil managed it. He was fairly sure Clint was trying to be seductive rather than funny, particularly judging by the unnecessary level of muscle flexing across his back, and it seemed unwise to provoke a demon before breakfast.

"I was waiting," Phil said mildly.

Clint grinned. "What for?"

"For you to wake up."

"I wasn't sleeping. Demons don't sleep."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really."

"I must have been imagining all that snoring, then," Phil said before mentally kicking himself.

He suspected this might count as provoking a demon before breakfast.

"It was all in your head," Clint said agreeably.

"I was hoping _you'd_ turn out to be a figment of my imagination as well."

"I can be," Clint said, his smile turning filthy and flirtatious. "I can be any kind of figment you like. You still haven't told me what your wickedest desires are."

It seemed a little unfair that the smile and the low, purring voice could instantly make Phil uncomfortably warm and thinking about that damned tail again. He gritted his teeth and kept his eyes firmly on Clint's face, grateful for the thick dressing gown he'd pulled on before venturing out of his bedroom.

"I don't have any," Phil said firmly. "Except for you to get up so we can go to work."

Clint froze, his lecherous grin turning sickly. "Work?"

"I can't leave you here all day and I need to go to work, so you'll have to go with me," Phil said. "You can make yourself useful around the library while I figure out how to send you home."

"You know what I am, right?" Clint said. "Do I look like I'd be useful around a library?"

Phil smiled thinly. "You look like you've a creature who needs to be gainfully employed - or at least occupied - so you don't create havoc in my rent-controlled apartment building."

"How about if I promise not to do anything actually evil? I can probably do that. Maybe. I wouldn't even try too hard to figure out the loopholes."

There was an eager, hopeful expression in Clint's face and the tip of his tail twitched madly against the floor. Phil was almost swayed for maybe half a second, then he remembered the discussion about using entrails as home decorating items last night.

"No," he said firmly. "You're going to work with me."

"It's like you don't even trust me."

"I trust you to be sneaky, devious, and completely dishonest." Clint brightened up for a moment before Phil added, "None of those qualities lead me to think you can be trusted alone all day. None of them."

"You're really not much fun, are you?"

Phil shrugged. "Probably not. I'm taking a shower."

"Want some company? I can clean-"

"Whatever you're about to offer," Phil said quickly, "the answer's no."

He turned away and hurried into the bathroom so he couldn't hear Clint muttering under his breath. The look in Clint's eyes had been enough temptation. Hearing what Clint might have been offering said out loud would just make the mental images he had even worse.

And he still didn't know whether demons could read minds so he didn't dare linger on any of the images just in case.

***

Phil told himself he definitely wasn't hiding in the bathroom, he just needed to make sure all the sand and spell residue were washed away thoroughly before he dressed. Then he spent another five minutes under the shower, letting the hot water wash over his shoulders while his mind drifted in a pleasantly thoughtless void. It was only when he'd carefully towelled his skin dry until it stung - still not hiding, of course - that he realised he'd made a crucial error.

All his clothes were still in his bedroom.

There was absolutely no way he was marching across his living room naked and the t-shirt and boxers he'd slept in would feel disgustingly dirty against his skin after the restless, uncomfortably warm night he'd endured pretending not to think about Clint. In the end, he resorted to pulling on the thick dressing gown again and trying to wrap it so nobody could see his bare chest. Specifically, so Clint couldn't see his bare chest and make the lewd comment Phil was certain he'd make the moment he realised Phil was naked under the robe.

Phil made a mental note to be more prepared on future mornings. Then he snorted at himself for assuming Clint would be around for more awkward mornings.

By the time Phil finally (and reluctantly) left the bathroom, Clint was looking much more human. No tail, horns gone, ears no longer tapering to a point, and his skin a lightly tanned gold instead of red. There was a lot of skin on display for Phil to confirm its colour, mostly because Clint was wearing a pair of purple silk boxers and nothing else. He was also leaning against a kitchen counter, eating a bowl of what looked like...

"Are those Froot Loops?" Phil asked, stepping closer. "In chocolate milk?"

Clint shovelled a spoonful into his mouth and nodded cheerfully.

"That's disgusting," Phil said.

"I'm a demon. I'm supposed to be disgusting."

"You'll rot your teeth."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Demon, remember?"

"That excuse is going to get old very fast," Phil said. "Do I even own Froot Loops?"

The expression on Clint's face wasn't precisely guilty, he was too shameless for that, but he did suddenly look evasive and he couldn't quite meet Phil's eyes anymore.

"Uh," Clint said. "You do now?"

"And I suppose there's chocolate milk in my fridge now as well."

"Tasty delicious chocolate milk," Clint agreed. "You should try this."

"I think I'll stick to toast," Phil said. "And you need to shower before we leave."

"Why?"

Phil sniffed the air and made a face. "Because you stink of sulphur and new your co-workers probably won't appreciate it."

"I'm a-"

"Being a demon doesn't excuse you from personal hygiene," Phil said firmly. "Shower. Now. On your own."

"You were really serious about that whole working thing, weren't you?" Clint said as he put down his mostly finished bowl with obvious reluctance. "You know I'm probably allergic, right? All that honesty and hard work, can't be good for a creature like me."

"I'll take my chances," Phil said. "And you'll take your shower."

"Fine, fine."

Clint grumbled quietly under his breath as he walked across the room to the bathroom, not even bothering to make any deliberate attempt at walking seductively. He didn't really need to, though, because the thin silk boxers didn't leave anything to the imagination and Phil couldn't tear his eyes away from Clint's ass until the bathroom door closed behind him.

They were going to need some rules if they were going to be roommates for long. Most of those rules, Phil felt, were going to be around acceptable clothing levels. He took several calming breaths, glared at the dregs of chocolate and sugar in the bowl, and headed for his bedroom to dress.

***

Phil was eating his second slice of toast and pouring coffee into a travel mug when Clint emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of sweet-smelling steam. Clint's skin was still damp, his hair was dripping and the towel he'd wrapped around his waist was entirely too brief for Phil's comfort. A drop of water fell from Clint's hair, landing on his shoulder and sliding slowly down his chest. It rolled over his collarbone and meandered down his pectoral, glittering in the sunlight and drawing Phil's eyes irresistibly to follow its path.

The droplet reached Clint's nipple and Phil unconsciously held his breath, waiting to see whether it would hang there or continue further down Clint's chest.

"Think you've spilled something," Clint said cheerfully, cutting through the thick tension in the air.

Phil blinked and pulled his eyes away from the tantalising drop of water. Then he swore and grabbed a handful of paper towels to mop up the coffee that had spilled over the brim of his travel mug before it could start dripping onto the floor. By the time he'd cleaned up the mess and put the lid on his mug, Clint had stolen the coffee pot and was chugging the rest down in one long, greedy gulp.

The quantity of sugar and caffeine that had to be racing around Clint's body didn't bear thinking about. Phil mentally added "no drinking straight from the coffee pot" to the house rules he'd be drawing up. He was definitely putting in a rule about minimal clothing levels.

"Great coffee, man," Clint said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "Thanks."

Phil sighed quietly to himself. For the sake of his continued sanity, he needed to figure out how to send Clint back to wherever he came from fast.

"You need to get dressed," he said, taking the pot out of Clint's hand and putting it in the sink. "We have to leave about...two minutes ago."

"I can do that," Clint said easily.

There was a shimmer in the air around the demon and when Phil could see him again, he was wearing a beautifully tailored grey three piece suit. There was even had a neatly folded pocket square in purple silk poking out of his breast pocket.

It was probably worth more than the library's entire DVD collection.

"That's not going to work," Phil said.

Clint spread his arms and spun on the spot, showing off the perfect fit and the way the fabric clung in all the right places. "Why not?"

"Nobody will believe you're a shelving clerk if you're wearing that," Phil said.

"I was just following your lead."

Phil looked down at his own suit, which was admittedly a three piece and not a bargain basement one, but it definitely wasn't tailored and he'd bought it on sale two years ago.

"Maybe I upgraded a little on your version," Clint said with a casual shrug. "I can get you-"

"No."

"No?"

"You were about to offer to get me something like yours," Phil said, watching for the small twitch by Clint's right eye that signified a hit. "I'm saying no. My wardrobe stays the way it is."

There was a disappointed pout on Clint's lips. "You've got a demon at your beck and call, you could make me do anything, and you won't even let me upgrade you clothes a little bit. I've never met anyone this stubborn."

"I didn't summon you to do things," Phil said. "I summoned an imp to see whether it could be done. You're a-"

"Bonus?"

"-unwelcome distraction."

Clint smiled and fluttered his eyelashes. "I can be really distracting if you'd let me. I'm very, very good at it."

If he'd spoken with the usual throaty purr he used when he was trying to be tempting, Phil might have found him as distracting as Clint promised. But he used a normal voice and the eyelash fluttering looked ridiculous so the effect was comical rather than seductive. Phil had to fight to suppress a smile and he didn't entirely succeed. It escaped into the corners of his lips and he bit the inside of his mouth to keep it from getting worse.

"I'm sure you're very good," Phil said, "but right now I need you to put on something more appropriate for a shelving clerk so we can go to work."

"You're still sure about the work thing?"

"Completely."

Clint sighed and the air shimmered around him again. This time when it cleared he was wearing a pair of grey dress pants, a pale grey shirt and a black sweater. The top button of the shirt had been left unbuttoned to reveal a tantalising hint at the hollows of his throat and he looked both casually elegant but practically dressed for a day of shelving all at the same time.

He raised an eyebrow. "Will this do?"

Phil had to clear his throat before he could make any sound. "It's fine."

"I look like a librarian," Clint complained.

"That's the idea," Phil said. "Otherwise you'll stick out like a sore thumb. It's going to be hard enough explaining you as it is."

He picked up his travel mug and threw the last slice of cold toast in the trash before checking his watch and swearing at the time.

"You know, I could take us." Clint wiggled his fingers suggestively. "You'd get to work on time."

"I-"

"Come on," Clint said. "Just one little transport. For the good of your library. It might collapse if you're late or something."

Phil considered the idea, weighing up the pros (not arriving at work late when he had Clint looking flirtatious and seductive in tow) against the cons (the disturbing voices) and deciding that overall, his reputation was more important to him than some temporary discomfort.

"Fine," Phil said. "Just this once. And don't spill my coffee."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

This time, probably in deference to the coffee in his hand, Clint stood behind him and wrapped his arms around Phil's waist. Their bodies fitted snugly together and Phil pretended he couldn't feel Clint's chin resting on his shoulder. He had time to take a quick, deep breath before his stomach lurched and he was suddenly falling through cold darkness.

***

Phil's breath froze in his throat and voices muttered softly, the sound seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Part of him wanted to strain to hear the words and another part of him knew that he'd never sleep again if he did because just the muted hisses were enough to make his skin crawl. The arms wrapped around his waist were so warm in contrast to everything else that he felt like he was being branded and he didn't even notice that he was pushing back into Clint, seeking more of that heat to prevent his bones shattering from the cold.

Then everything stopped and he was standing in a stinking alley with a warm fall breeze brushing his face.

He took a careful breath, already feeling the chill melt away even though the mingled stench of rotting garbage and urine would normally be enough to make him gag. On balance, Phil decided that he'd rather risk his reputation next time than go through that again. Wherever Clint took them during transit, Phil thought it probably wasn't somewhere humans were built to go.

Thinking of Clint reminded Phil that he was still wrapped in the demon's arms and Clint was now holding him even closer than when they'd left the apartment. Phil chose not to remember that _he'd_ been the one pushing closer a moment ago, seeking warmth, and blamed it all on Clint instead. It was completely unfair and he knew he was being irrational, but when Clint nuzzled the side of his neck and made a soft happy sound he immediately stopped feeling guilty.

Apparently demons subscribed firmly to the "give them an inch and they'll take a mile" philosophy.

"Can you stop doing that?" Phil said.

Clint nuzzled a little more. "I can, sure."

Phil waited a beat and then sighed. "Stop doing that."

He struggled for a moment before Clint finally allowed him to step away. Clint was pouting sadly when Phil turned to look at him.

"I'll do anything you say, master," Clint said when their eyes met. He swept a mocking bow and looked up through his eyelashes. "I'm yours to command."

There was a flash of something in Clint's eyes as he straightened up, quickly hidden, and for a moment Phil wondered whether he'd actually hurt Clint's feelings this time. Did demons get hurt feelings? He remembered Clint defensively asking if he'd been expecting someone taller and the way he'd tilted his chin up almost expecting to be told that yes, Phil had definitely been expecting someone bigger and more impressive.

Phil was just thinking he should probably do something - apologise somehow - when Clint smiled flirtatiously and said, "Did I mention that I'm very flexible?"

Any sympathy Phil had almost felt abruptly fled and he rolled his eyes. "How is that relevant to me?"

"It's-"

"Please don't explain," Phil said firmly.

His mouth had inexplicably gone dry so took a sip of coffee and immediately grimaced because it was completely stone cold. Almost icy, in fact.

Clint looked at him sheepishly. "Uh, that sometimes happens. Do you want me to warm it up?"

Phil hesitated before holding out his travel mug to let Clint touched it with one finger. The cup immediately felt warmer and the coffee was hot and delicious when Phil tried it.

"Thank you," Phil said.

Clint blinked. "Uh."

"Where are we?"

The question seemed to take a lot more thought than Phil thought it deserved before Clint said, "About a block from your library. I didn't think you'd want everyone to see you arrive out of thin air."

"That's very thoughtful," Phil said.

Again there was a look of confusion on Clint's face but he didn't say anything, he just followed as Phil led the way to the street and turned left for the library. They walked in silence and Phil felt his heart sink a little when he saw Darcy Lewis and Jasper Sitwell already waiting by the employee entrance. Out of all the members of staff that could have seen him arrive with Clint, he'd been hoping it wouldn't be them.

"Morning boss," Darcy said cheerfully.

She was wearing a stripy knitted hat and two mismatched scarves and her hands were wrapped around a huge travel mug that steamed and smelled of spices. There was a sly grin curving her lips as she spotted Clint.

"Hello, gorgeous," she said. "Are you ours?"

There was a muffled snigger from Jasper's direction and Phil glared at him for a moment. "No. He's a temporary shelving clerk."

"Temporary I can work with," Darcy said. "How temporary?"

"We're not sure yet," Clint said. "Until your boss manages to get rid of me, I guess."

"You'll be here for a long time then," Darcy said. "He's a total soft touch."

"I've never actually noticed that about him before."

"You've known him for a long time then?"

Clint grinned. "I'm his-"

"Old friend of the family," Phil said smoothly as he unlocked the door. "I'm just helping Clint out until he's back on his feet. Don't you all have work to get on with?"

He pushed the door open and Darcy darted through with Clint her heels. Jasper hung back for a moment, his eyebrow raised and an expression on his face that Phil recognised too well.

"On my sofa," Phil said and brushed past him just in time to hear the soft snort of disbelief.

It was shaping up to be a long day.

***

The busy chaos of opening the library and dealing with the first rush of patrons desperate to return books before they could be fined gave Phil the perfect excuse to hand Clint over to Darcy to learn the basics of shelving books. Darcy looked delighted and Phil ignored the pathetic pout Clint put on as he reluctantly listened to Darcy's explanation of the different stickers on the fiction books.

Phil always tried to make sure he did his share of shifts on the different desks so he spent the first two hours stamping and checking books out. It was a busy morning so he didn't have a chance to do more than vaguely note that Clint was moving around the room with a shelving cart and hope Clint was actually doing something with the books. When a stream of small children began arriving for the Tuesday morning puppet workshop in the children's department, Phil gratefully ceded his position at the desk to Darcy.

The children were sitting down on cushions watching Steve's puppets with wide eyes when Phil checked in on the way down to his office and he smiled at the sight. Gently prodding Steve in the direction of children's librarian had definitely been one of his better ideas over the years.

There was a faint smell of sulphur lingering in Phil's office when he opened the door and he grimaced. The door to the casting room was standing slightly ajar and he mentally berated himself for overlooking it last night. If he hadn't been scheduled to open and someone had wandered into his office looking for something, it could have ended disastrously. He pulled the door firmly closed and, just as a precaution, muttered the words to activate the don't-look charm he'd laid over the door after the original glamour broke.

Then he sprayed a liberal dose of air freshener around the room and sat down to do some work. Library work. He told himself firmly that he had to at least make a start on the thick stack of things lurking in his To Do tray before he started his demon-related research.

He'd barely begun when there was a knock at his door and it opened to reveal Darcy looking apprehensive.

"Uh," Darcy said.

Phil put down his pen and tried not to look worried. "What has he done?"

"What has who done?" Darcy said with an unconvincing look of innocence.

"Clint. I assume that's why you're down here tearing a leaflet about the local film festival into shreds?"

There was indeed a scattering of neatly torn pieces of paper around Darcy's feet and she immediately put both hands behind her back. "Uh. Yes. That's why I'm...that is, he's...uh...are you sure he can...read?"

Phil blinked. He hadn't even considered whether or not demons could read. Had he read something about demons and words, or was that angels? Or vampires? Neither of which he'd thought were real but now that he'd proved demon summoning actually worked he was starting to revise his opinion of everything he'd ever read about supernatural creatures.

None of which was helping him resolve the issue of Clint and the books, he reminded himself.

"What, exactly, is he doing? Phil asked.

"I started him off in fiction, because that's not so difficult if you pay attention to the genre stickers," Darcy said. "Nobody wants to figure out non-fiction on their first day. Really, _nobody_. So I showed him what the stickers meant and gave him a cart and he's kind of...putting the books in weird places. Not alphabetic sort of places." She took a deep breath. "He's putting the fantasy books in the right stacks, but he shelved the Vampire Diaries with the Sookie Stackhouse books."

Phil sighed and gestured for Darcy to precede him out of the office and up to the main floor, where she was more than happy to hurry back to the checkout desk.

Clint was standing by a half-emptied shelving cart, holding a copy of A Dance with Dragons in his hand with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Clint?" Phil said.

The cheerfully lecherous grin Clint gave him when he turned around made Phil roll his eyes. This was definitely not the time or place for looks like that.

"Miss me already?" Clint asked.

"Not in the slightest." Phil nodded to the books in Clint's hand. "I've had some complaints about your shelving system. Do you know your alphabet?"

Clint's chin lifted slightly and the smile melted away.

"Of course. I'm a-" He cut himself off with a glance at a nearby patron. "I'm a Bulgarian, that doesn't mean I can't read, whatever you've heard about us."

"So...Bulgarians...can read?"

"What does it matter to you?"

Phil nodded to the shelf in front of them, where Tad Williams had been mingled with Terry Brooks. "If you can read then why are you filing all the books in the wrong places?"

"I'm trying out a new system," Clint said, shrugging casually. "Putting similar books together. If someone likes one urban fantasy with vampires then they'll probably like other ones."

"So that's why you've put the Vampire Diaries with Sookie Stackhouse books?"

"Yeah. Think how many more books people will borrow them."

Phil sighed. "And the people looking for the Vampire Diaries, where do you think they'll look? Probably not in the 'H's."

Clint's smile turned a little sickly. "Huh. I hadn't thought of it that way. Maybe if you had a shelf just for-"

"If we had a separate shelf just for each small subgenre within each genre, we'd need a library three times this size," Phil said. "It's not practical."

"I could..." Clint trailed off and wiggled his fingers.

"No," Phil said firmly. "You will not perform any kind of magic inside or to my library."

"But it would just-"

"No." Phil tried to look less annoyed than he felt, although he probably failed miserably. "Just shelve the books the way Darcy told you to. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"Good. Then I'll leave you to it and get on with some of my real work."

He was turning away to return to his office when Clint spoke. "Are you still trying to find a way to send me back?"

There was a look in Clint's eyes that Phil couldn't quite interpret. It wasn't fear, not exactly, but he didn't look happy and in anyone else Phil would have called it worry. Clint was a demon, though, and he had to be itching under the restraints already imposed on him so why wouldn't he want to go home? Maybe he was worried that Phil wouldn't find a way and he'd be stuck here forever.

"I'm still trying," Phil said. "There are dozens of books in this library that I haven't even looked in. Maybe hundreds. I'll find a way."

Clint paused for a moment, expression blank, before nodding and turning back to his shelving cart. "Great, thanks. Can't wait."

Phil wondered at the response for a moment but then he caught Steve gesturing to him, a worried parent at his side, and all thoughts of demons and magic were pushed away as he hurried to fix whatever had gone wrong in the puppet workshop.

***

Phil had barely opened his email inbox when there was another knock on his office door. He was beginning to think there were powers out there who didn't want him to do any work of any kind, never mind figuring out how to send a demon back to Hell.

Before he could do more than sigh irritably, the door swung open to admit Nick Fury and the scent of fresh hot sandwiches and burgers.

Nick stalked in and held up a large paper bag. "Thought you might be hungry."

Phil's stomach made an embarrassingly loud hungry growl. "I didn't realise how late it was."

"Busy day?" Nick asked as he pulled food out of the bag, making a face as he put Phil's sandwich on the desk. "Tuna melt on rye. That's disgusting."

The sight of Nick Fury, wearing an eye patch and dressed in his customary all-black sharp suit, sitting down on a short rolling filing cabinet to eat burgers and fries always made Phil smile. Somehow the visual never really made sense even though they'd eaten in his office several times over the last few months. Phil still often wondered why a man like Nick Fury had become head of the board overseeing New York's second largest library system.

He unwrapped his sandwich and took a neat bite out of it, chewing and swallowing to give himself time to think of a response to the question.

"It's been an unexpected sort of day," he said carefully.

"Really?" Nick gestured with a fry. "The kind of unexpected where we'll need to squeeze our sponsors for the money for another massive building repair or..?"

Phil smiled thinly. "The kind where I talked a parent out of suing us for mental trauma due to her child's frog phobia."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not. Steve will be issuing a full list of all the puppet characters he uses in his workshop to all the parents from now on. Just in case."

"And is your unauthorised new shelving clerk another unexpected part of the day?"

Phil choked on a mouthful of food and pretended he couldn't see the amused smirk on Nick's face as he tried to clear his airway.

"Yeah, I noticed him," Nick said. "You can't move someone like that into my library-"

"-our library-"

"- without me noticing. I wasn't aware the board had authorised the budget for another full-time staffer."

He didn't say it, but it was obvious that he knew the board wouldn't have authorised anyone without informing him.

Phil thought quickly. "He's an intern. Unpaid. So I didn't see any need to bring the board in."

"Uh huh. He's a little old for that, isn't he?"

"It's a favour for a family friend. I'm giving him something to do while he gets back on his feet."

Nick's eyebrow rose. "A family friend, huh?"

With a sinking feeling, Phil realised the heat in his face was probably a blush. He was blushing in front of Nick Fury, of all people, and Nick's smirk was only growing wider and more amused.

"I can provide whatever paperwork is necessary," Phil said, trying not to sound flustered or embarrassed. "It's all above board. He won't be here for long."

"As long as it really is just a temporary favour and he's not expecting a salary," Nick said. "Make sure his paperwork is filed properly."

"I will." Phil had a nasty feeling he'd be asking Clint for some help with that, which just made him feel even more out of sorts with the entire demon concept. "It's definitely temporary. Very temporary."

"If he's temporary and isn't earning, where's he staying?"

Phil felt his flush deepen and cursed all demons everywhere for landing him in this mess. He conveniently ignored the part where he'd been the one who summoned Clint in the first place. He'd never intended to summon anything like Clint and he definitely hadn't expected the demon to stay.

Nick snorted. "Don't tell me, I can guess. If the board asks, he's staying on your sofa."

"He _is_ staying on my sofa."

"Uh huh."

"Did you have something you really needed to discuss with me or are you just here to mock my staffing choices?"

"The mocking was an unexpected bonus," Nick said. "I'm actually here for that fundraising meeting we scheduled for this afternoon."

Phil closed his eyes for a moment, contemplating the many and varied benefits of going back to bed and pretending the entire day wasn't happening. Except Clint would follow him home and be demonic in the apartment and just no, Phil didn't have enough energy for that. Even talking about ways to extract money from wealthy people to pay for books they'd probably demand to ban would be less exhausting than dealing with Clint and his seductive smiles.

He opened his eyes. "You're sitting on the files we'll need. Move your ass off my filing cabinet."

"You know, I really thought you'd be more cheerful now that you've got a live-in intern."

"He's sleeping on my sofa."

"Sure he is."

***

The third time someone knocked at his door, Phil was tempted to drag some files under his desk, cast a charm, and hide there until whoever wanted him went away. It was probably the only way he was going to get anything done.

He didn't, though, because his sense of duty was too strong. And the space under his desk really wasn't large enough to work in comfortably.

Instead he told his visitor to enter and tried not to look defeated when Clint sidled in. For one moment, Phil considered just sending Clint back upstairs but then he looked more closely. Clint wasn't moving with his usual seductive grace. His face looked pinched and tired and his fingers were tapping restlessly against his thigh.

"Darcy sent me down here," Clint said abruptly. "Begged, actually, which was kind of fun to watch. I've seen some quality begging over the years but she's got the weirdest...I've never met anyone who could beg and order all in the same sentence."

Phil had been on the receiving end of a few of Darcy's impassioned pleas since he'd arrived at the library so he could easily imagine. "Why did she send you up here?"

"We ran out of books."

"By ran out you mean..."

"We ran out of unshelved books for me to shelve," Clint said. "And you told me to shelve books the way Darcy told me to and now I can't stop shelving until you tell me to stop."

Phil blinked. "Really?"

Clint ran a hand through his hair, looking agitated. "Really. I _really_ need to shelve books. Tell me to stop."

"You can stop shelving books now," Phil said carefully.

The look of relief on Clint's face was almost comical. "Thank you."

Phil made a mental note to be much more careful about the wording of any orders or requests he gave to Clint. That aspect of demon control appeared to be more complicated than he'd first assumed. Then he wondered when he began to care about whether his orders would hurt Clint.

Clearly keeping a demon for any length of time was riddled with potential complications.

"I still have some things to get through here," Phil said. "You can stay down here - quietly - or go back upstairs if you want to."

"Darcy might actually attack me if I start looking for any more work upstairs," Clint said. "I'll stay here with you."

He promptly sat down on the corner of Phil's desk, which was definitely going to be distracting. Phil looked at him and waited. After a couple of minutes, Clint sighed and hopped down. His expression said that Phil wasn't being fun right now, which was fine because Phil wasn't there for Clint's amusement. He turned to his computer and tried to focus.

After five minutes of attempting to ignore the way Clint was prowling around his tiny office, picking things up and flipping through files, he gave up.

"Can't you just sit quietly?" he asked.

Clint shrugged. "No. I'm bored."

"This is a library, why don't you read a book?" Phil suggested. "It's what people come here for."

A strange look crossed Clint's face, gone in an instant but intriguing anyway. "You want me to read something?"

"If it will stop you annoying me, then yes."

"Huh."

There was still a strange tone in Clint's voice. He almost sounded surprised, maybe a little hopeful. It was a combination Phil had never expected to see in a creature who spent most of his time trying to get into his pants.

"I thought you claimed to be able to read," Phil said carefully.

"Sure I can. I just...don't normally get to." Clint shrugged with forced casualness. "Most people are too busy getting me to rip their enemies into tiny pieces - which we can still do, by the way, I'm always up for some ripping."

"You don't normally have to spend much time with the people who summon you," Phil said.

"Not like this, anyway. People don't _keep_ me after I've done my thing for them."

"I wouldn't be keeping you either, if I'd been able to send you back last night," Phil reminded him.

"Yeah, that is odd," Clint said very casually. "I mean, the wards in your apartment are some of the best I've seen. It's weird you can't send me back."

"Very strange," Phil agreed absently, thinking through a few possibilities. "I'm going to make you a deal."

A bright, cheerful expression lit up Clint's face. "I like deals. What is your heart's desi-"

"Not that kind of deal," Phil said quickly.

"What other kind of deal is there?"

"The kind where you do whatever it is you do and some records appear in the computers to make you exist in the system so the library board doesn't ask any more questions about you. In return, I'll get you a library card and you can borrow any books you might want."

"Any?"

Phil hesitated before saying, "Anything except the books in the occult section."

Clint's happy expression didn't drop. "Done. And done already. How do we get my library card?"

***

With Clint happily sitting in a corner with a stack of books, Phil was finally able to get some paperwork done. He glanced over every now and again, faintly amazed at the sight of a demon reading. Not that Clint looked particularly demonic right now - he looked more like a student with his ridiculous and unnecessary thick-framed glasses - but out of all the things Phil thought Clint might do, borrowing and reading the library's entire collection of Terry Pratchett books hadn't entered his mind. Clint had just grinned when Phil raised his eyebrow at the stack of books.

Darcy stopped by for a minute to him know that she and Jasper were leaving and that Thor, for once, had arrived for his shift on time. She'd grinned when she spotted Clint sprawling on the floor with his books and Phil decided he didn't want to know what she thought was going on.

He set aside his last, completed file and considered carefully for a moment before accessing the library catalogue and starting a search. The occult section had always been unusually large but until yesterday, he'd assumed most of it was probably harmless. The magic he'd learned as a child was all about minor charms and wards and he'd been taught that was all magic could do. Now he was starting to think his teacher had either been very wrong or hiding the truth so he wouldn't look any further. And that meant the books he'd dismissed as harmless had the potential to be the very opposite if they fell into the wrong hands.

It also meant they might be a good place to start looking for a solution to his demon problem. Clearly the books he'd already searched didn't hold the answers, but maybe if he branched out into the more difficult books in the occult room there might be something. He was going to have to brush up on his medieval French.

Phil worked steadily for a while, refining his searches and noting down all the books that looked promising from their catalogue information. A worrying number of them had been checked out - several were months overdue, which made his stomach sink - but there were enough on the shelves to make a start.

He put the list in his pocket and began closing down his computer and putting away files. Clint seemed to sense his intentions because he looked up curiously.

"We done now?" he asked.

"I just need to borrow a few things," Phil confirmed. "Then we're done."

"Great, I'm starving," Clint announced, standing up and packing his books into a bag he'd stolen from somewhere. Phil thought he recognised the tote from a book festival three years ago. "Pizza good for you? A really big pizza?"

"Didn't you eat any lunch?" Phil asked.

"I didn't bring any and I don't have any money," Clint said. "Demons don't carry cash."

"That didn't stop you at breakfast. Couldn't you have just...?" Phil wiggled his fingers. "Got some?"

"You told me not to do any magic in or to your library. I can't do anything magical here unless you ask me to. You could always cancel that order, too."

Phil paused with his hand on the door handle. "No, I don't think so."

Clint pouted. "That's really unfair."

"I'll make you a sandwich tomorrow," Phil said.

"You're kind of an asshole sometimes, aren't you?"

***

Phil insisted on buying two pizzas on the way home instead of letting Clint magic some up. He didn't feel entirely comfortable eating demonically created food. Clint made an unhappy face when Phil asked him to carry the boxes but he didn't argue.

The lack of pizza boxes hiding his feet was probably why Phil saw the small smudges of black soot on the floor around his door and smelled the distinctive scent of sulphur and brimstone in the hallway outside his apartment. His nose itched and he wrinkled it.

"Can you smell that?" Phil asked, just to check whether his senses were playing tricks on him.

"I smell pepperoni and pizza sauce," Clint said. "What should I be smelling?"

"Fire and brimstone."

Clint took an exaggerated sniff. "Nope, only getting the pizza sauce."

The smell was already fading, getting lost under the fragrant scent from the pizza. Phil frowned and told himself he must have imagined it.

Except when he unlocked the door and touched the wards to let them through, he felt the fizz-zip sense of magic that had been recently disturbed. There were no other physical signs and the apartment looked exactly the way he'd left it, but he was sure something had been testing out the strength of his defences.

Clint looked completely unconcerned, though, throwing himself down to sprawl on the sofa as soon as he'd dropped the pizza boxes onto the coffee table. If anything hellish was happening, surely Clint would be able to sense it.

Phil watched as Clint pulled out of the boxes closer and opened it to remove a slice laden with stringy, hot cheese. There was a look of unadulterated pleasure on Clint's face as he stuffed half the slice into his mouth and chewed with no attempt at neatness.

"Fuck, this is good stuff," Clint mumbled through his mouthful.

The light caught on the silver cuff on Clint's wrist, the evidence of their connection to each other. Phil glanced around the apartment again, looking for anything out of place, but it all looked safe and normal apart from the demon on his sofa.

He sighed and pushed the worrying thoughts aside for the moment. Nothing had actually got into his apartment and how likely was it that there was another demon roaming New York at the moment?

"Don't get grease on my sofa," he instructed, throwing a handful of paper napkins at Clint. "I only just cleaned it."

Clint wiped his fingers on a napkin. "Aren't you joining me?"

A vision went through Phil's mind of sitting with Clint, eating pizza and watching bad reality TV. Of Clint snuggling up next to him and getting overly handsy. Of Phil, warm and slightly dopey from too much food, letting him do it and liking it.

"I'll eat in my bedroom," Phil said. "I've got some reading to do."

"Aw." Clint pouted. "But I'll get all lonely out here."

"Books are a good cure for that," Phil said.

"You're really no fun at all, are you?"

Phil grabbed the second pizza box and retreated to his bedroom door. "No, I'm not."

He stepped inside and shut the door before he could see Clint's disappointed expression and waver. There was a loud, dramatic sigh from the other side of the door and a moment later Phil heard a soft thud as though balled up fabric had hit it. He risked opening the door for a moment and caught a glimpse of Clint's bare shoulder.

The rest of him was hidden by the back of the sofa but, from the clothing scattered on the floor, Phil figured he probably had a naked demon on his couch. Again.

"New house rule," he said. "There are minimum standards of clothing here."

Clint twisted around and knelt up, revealing a lot more naked flesh. A lot. Phil coughed and looked up at the ceiling so he didn't do anything stupid, like stare at him.

"Minimum standards?" Clint asked.

"A t-shirt and underwear, at least, must be worn at all times in public areas of the apartment," Phil said firmly, still keeping his eyes away from Clint's nakedness. "Which is defined as any area that isn't the bathroom or my bedroom."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a shimmer in the air and when he looked, Clint was wearing a tight black t-shirt. Hopefully there were boxers, at least, lower down but Phil didn't let himself check.

"Thank you," he said. "Good night."

He closed the door again before he could hear Clint's response and leaned against it.

This whole taking a demon home with him _thing_ was probably the worst decision he'd ever made in his life.


End file.
